Los Angeles daily herald., 1887-07-16
Spring in Japan.

Yokohama Correspondence of the Globe
Democrat.
Before the last petals have futtered
from the cherry trees the wisteriad in
the perfection of its blossoming, and
on the trellisses bordering and over
hanging the little lake at kameido
Temple one sees an eighth wonder of
the world. In Japan farming is gar
dening as we understand the
words, and gardening is nee
romancy, and the magic that
makes the chrysanthemums such
marvels in size, color and symmetrical
arrangement by the hundred ON one
single stalk has coaxed the pendant
wisterial blossoms until they are three
and four feet in length. Around the
lake at Kameido the great purple
fowees hang in dense masses from
the bamboo trellises that reach far out
over the water. The mat of leaves
and blossoms overhead makes thick,
cool shadows on the border
of the little lake, and the
heavy flowers are reflected in
the clear water, on which the pur-
pie petals fall and float and are snap
ped at idly by the great gold fish, as
remarkable in size and length as the
wisteria itself. The wisteria trellises
are the roofs and balcony awnings of
the open air tea booths with which
the lakes are surrounded, and in this
blossom week whole families and
groups of friends are to be seen sip
ping tea, eating lily bulbs, rice, eels
and all the queer things that can be
managed with chop-sticks.
Up among the blossoms bits of fut-
tering paper tell where some dear
poetic soul has poured out his heart in
a distich or two done in characters,
and fastened it to the adored wisteria,
which in Japanese is known as the
Full, the same name as their beloved
mountain. Besides contemplating the
thick fringe of flowers pendant
from the trellises and watching the
pilgrims make their way over a Curl
Gus arched bridge, whose ends almost
complete a circle, the tea-drinkers call
the goldfish to them and feed them
with round cakes made specially for
them and sold by the basketful for a
few coppers. A pretty little tea-house
girl in a dark-blue gown with red
Grape folded in the neck, and another
bit of vivid scarlet showing in her
hair, leans over the low rail and
clasps her hands slowly and con-
tinuously until a golden nose shows
here and there on the water. These
golden carp have lived in peace and
plenty in Kameido lakes for scores of
years, and are solid, plump old fel-
lows, three feet or more in length.
As one gets sectional views of them,
only head, back or tail at a time, they
give the imagination chance to join
their parts together and build them
out to whales. They gulp down
the rice cakes with voracity that
would lead one to believe that these
venerable pets had never had u feast
before. In wisteria time there is a
steady hand-clapping going on around
the pool, and the lazy, old, golden
gourmands quietly swim from one
horn of plenty shower of cakes to
another.
Now at Hori Kori there are acres of
blue and white iris flowers looking up
to the rare face of the sun, and the
same troops of holiday people are
striding and mincing along on their
clogs admiring the flowers, sitting on
teahouse floors to sip tea, and
sleeping their souls in the
calm and poetry of the scene.
In florists gardens are shows of peon-
les and late azaleas, and these masses
of large and brilliant blossoms rob one
Of his last adjectives. Japan is all
poetry and picturesqueness at any
season, but now in blooming spring
time it is at its best and most beautiful.
Ever garden is dream Of foliage and